


come loose your dogs upon me

by ennaih (aquandrian)



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Fingering, Breathplay, Choking, F/M, Humiliating Talk, Humiliation kink, Identity Porn, Jynnic Week, Masturbation, Mention of Flogging, Pegging, Porn Without Plot, Prompt Fill, Prostate Milking, Utter Filth, domme!Jyn, sort of, sub!Krennic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-03
Updated: 2017-02-03
Packaged: 2018-09-21 12:39:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9549347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aquandrian/pseuds/ennaih
Summary: She is a dominatrix working in a sex club. He arrives as a very exclusive client looking to be punished and healed.Written for the Porn Without Plot themed day of Jynnic Week.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [orysbaratheon (kinginthenarrowsea)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kinginthenarrowsea/gifts).



> Title from _The Ship Song_ by Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds. Don't worry, it's purely a metaphoric type thing.

Her name is Lianna Hallik. That is how her clients know her.

She knows well enough who he is. The club in the elite recesses of Taris demands such exorbitant fees as to assure complete discretion, and he appears in their files as a series of numbers and initials. The first time she walked into the black room and saw him naked and strapped onto his back, legs splayed and locked into stirrups, his silver hair glinting under the bright spotlights, she recognised him as the Director of the Imperial Army. A bureaucrat, another man crazed with so much power and ambition that it eats through him like acid, that sends him here.

He has no idea about her, wouldn’t recognise her in a restaurant or at some high society dinner. That’s just the way she likes it. After all, it’s just a job. And she is very good at her job.

She doesn’t always do the corset and boots routine. Sometimes she’s clad neck to toe in skin tight black leather, gleaming and impenetrable. Tonight she feels a little more generous. She comes to him bare breasted and with her hair down, curling soft around her little girl face with its big eyes and big mouth. She wears nothing but a triangle of sheer black between her thighs, lace top stockings, and heels that are very high, very sharp, and scarlet-soled. 

She’s going to make him cry tonight.

He has certain requests in his file. Standard practices, definite don’ts. And sometimes there are specific demands for the night. She doesn’t necessarily give them to him the way he expects or when he expects but she does her job. And he keeps coming back to her.

Tonight, she circles him in silence, watching him breathe a little faster. His eyes are greedy on her breasts, on her thighs, darting to the crop in her black gloved hands. He wants that, she can tell. So she trails the tip of it along his flinching abdomen, along the pale strong length of his thigh. Says nothing but she thinks about how she likes the way his arms look outstretched and cuffed down, white flesh and black leather and durasteel against the smooth grey slab. Pale brown hair under his arms and at the root of his cock that stiffens and reddens a little at the sight of her, at the touch of the crop.

It was his first visit she had used it on him. He had smirked at her, obviously thinking that a girl with such a sweet face couldn’t give him what he needed. She’d left him with welts, his gasping handsome face wet with tears. And since then just the sight of the crop excites him.

Now she moves to his side and places her sleek leather hand below his collarbone. “I’ve missed you,” she says in her cool performance voice. His eyes flicker, they’re an icy blue in this light but she’s seen how they turn hot and pleading. She strokes him down his chest between the pale pink nipples that go erect very fast. “I’ve missed the way you break for me.”

He is freckled in so many places but especially she likes the patterns of them on the inside of his thighs. The warm dark pink weight of his balls in her black gloved hand. He arches and gasps when she holds them, pushes into her grip like the greedy little fuck he is. “I’ve missed that,” she tells him, and he laughs with his eyes shut, a little wild and desperate. He’s come to her so primed. And it hasn’t been that long but he’s like that and she lies like that.

So she takes hold of his semi-hard cock with both hands, watches his lashes flutter open, clear blue up at the lights. “How many times do you think you’re going to come for me tonight?” He doesn’t answer, he never does, but he shakes and gasps when she pumps his cock. Never gentle, relentless, she never eases into it. Brutal is what he wants, brutal is what he gets, and she thoroughly enjoys being able to hurt him with pleasure. She pulls him hard, his cock gets nicely long and thick. He’s pretty like this, breathless and blushing down his chest, fucking up into her leather grip, red flesh in sleek black. “Look at you,” she murmurs, “you pretty little fuck.”

But she doesn’t let him come. That’d be too easy, too boring. When he’s close, when he’s leaking clear at the tip, she rubs that down into the hot smooth skin of his cock, and reaches towards the little array of paraphernalia to one side. The durasteel ring snaps around the base of his cock, cold enough to make him jolt and spurt just a little. “Uh uh,” she warns, and he whimpers, sinking down against the hard surface, his breathing ragged.

“Look at your nice little cock,” she murmurs, stroking up his chest as she moves along the slab. “All red and hard and desperate. You want to come, don’t you?” She bends her face over his, her hands cradling the contours of his cheekbones and jaw. His head is against her naked breasts, smooth silver strands brushing her nipples. He breathes so fast, his eyes pure blue, not yet pleading but so close so close. Her own hair falls dark and warm around their faces and she slides her gloved hands around the warm column of his throat, stifling her laugh inside because he flinches with that breathy grateful moan. He loves this so much, gives himself up to it with such wanton abandon. 

So she chokes him with her strong hands, the leather hot on his hot skin, and watches him writhe and struggle, watches him lose his breath, lose bit by bit of consciousness. He can’t claw at her grip, his hands curl and spread in their restraints, but his body arches off the slab, his cock an angry red curve against the paleness of his abdomen. Twists and arches, the life struggle, the death throes, and at that crucial moment she releases her grip and bites at his open mouth. He comes like a shot, loud and spurting white all over his chest, and she grabs his hair, pulls him through it, that extra edge of pain she knows makes it so much better.

His breath is a storm as he collapses against the slab, his cock still hard in the ring. They’ve barely begun, they both know this. And she smiles to herself as she walks past him, knowing he sees it. The sight of him with his legs splayed out, all his private parts exposed to her is so damned pleasing, exactly why she loves this work.

Now she strips off one glove and slathers the lube across her bare fingers. Flicks her gaze up to him watching her, still trembling a little. A mischievous smile, one of promise, and she rubs her slick thumb along the crease of his arse. With a gasp, he looks up to the ceiling, spreading his legs wider for her, his ankles pushing deeper through the cuffs. And she wonders aloud. “Do you let other people fuck you like this?” 

Circling his very tight very virgin hole. “Probably not, right? Of course you wouldn’t.” 

Testing it with one fingertip, watching his face. “Not unless there was something very worthwhile to be had in return.” 

His expression flickers again, she’s departing from the script. And she slides her index finger in, one smooth long thrust that has him open-mouthed and melting against the hard slab. She leans between his spread thighs, feeling the cool black air of the room on her bare back, the heat of the lights on her tender breasts. “That feel good? Do you feel broken into now? Violated like the craven little sub you are?” 

Because she doesn’t stop with just the one finger, she fucks him steadily with one and then two, slathers up more and keeps going. He jolts when she’s two knuckles deep and scrapes across his prostate, the electricity going under his skin in tremors, fast shallow gasps. And she keeps going, watches that buzz spread through him. His mind is gone, he’s an animal, a mass of beautiful flesh and sensation entirely at her mercy, moaning without pause, working himself on her fingers as he pleads for her to stop, pleads for her to go on.

Then she grabs his cock, her own breath excited in her chest. Jacks him brutally with one hand, she has him steel hard and burning hot, four fingers up inside him, his skin stretched raw and red around her hand. He’s whimpering now, crying happily soundlessly, sweating all over so his skin gleams. And she nods silently to a shadow stepping out of the black. 

Someone to take hold of his head and force him up enough to watch this being done to him. He’s so beautiful like this, a shameless needy man, helpless and watching his cock being pumped hard in one gloved hand, watching himself used on her bare fingers. He watches and comes all over himself again, comes again in tiny spurts of helpless shudders, comes and comes even when there’s nothing more to give, his body writhing and wracked with pleasure.

And now she lets go of him, regards his exhausted body against the slab as she wipes the lube and come off her fingers. Is he going to let her fuck him now? She rather wants to but then again maybe it’s not necessary. The shadow steps back into the darkness, unacknowledged.

And she gives into her instinct, puts her sleek smooth knee up on the slab between his spread dripping legs. Like a gorgeous predator of black and ivory, she plants her fists on either side of his torso, and slowly rubs her bare breasts across the mess of his abdomen and chest. Her nipples catch on his skin, his eyes fly open, finding her with shocky breathless blue. Her spine undulating like a dancer, she licks up the centre of his chest, right up to the reddened abused flesh of his throat. He pulls at his restraints now, a snarl in his breath. They stare at each other’s mouths, they have never kissed, they never will, but sometimes, just sometimes they can taste exactly what it would be like.

So she stands up smooth and slow, a terrible beautiful girl that he lifts his back off the slab trying to reach. Who places her scarlet-soled black shoe on the centre of his chest, the sharp heel digging into skin, and pushes him flat. 

“Look at you. You weak pathetic little man, when will you ever amount to anything?” He catches his breath, his eyes wide and beautiful. “How could you possibly achieve anything great?” She comes down to kneel across his chest, aware of the scent and heat of her own cunt as she locks gazes with him. “You have nothing of your own. No wit, no brilliance, no creativity, not a single idea of your own. You just take and you steal and you use, don’t you?”

This time his breath comes fast and anxious, tears gathering in the corners of his eyes. It disturbs her a little but this is the script. This is what he pays for. So she puts her gloved hand on his face, covers his mouth and nose. “And then you come to me. For what? Redemption? Penance? To be whipped? Back into a frenzy of ambition?” He starts to struggle against her, struggling for breath. She keeps her hand in place and says it. “Is that what it takes to be Director?”

She very rarely allows herself tenderness with him. Once at the end of a session when he was exhausted, streaked with his own come and fine red trails of blood under his patterned skin, she’d felt so proud of him that she’d cradled his face in both gloved hands and murmured, “Good boy …”

He asked to be strung up and flogged the next time.

Now he shudders and comes one more time. And she traces the shape of his face with one hand, curious and possessive like she is with all her clients.

“I’m going to fuck you now. Because I want to.”

The cock ring has rolled off him and somewhere across the floor where she can’t see. It doesn’t matter. She straps on and lubes him up some more, his hole so open and soft she slides right in, making him cry out like some used wretched thing. And it isn’t entirely the script, it’s a certain savage delight to fuck him, to dig her fingers into his spread thighs, to squeeze his balls as she drives in deep and hard, not stopping because he’s coming again, drained dry as he is, coming from the relentless assault on his own sweet spot, not stopping because she’s coming too, sweet and wet, once, twice, three times until she catches herself on her hands across him, stifling her own little cries.

In the aftermath, she unbuckles the strap-on, weak on her feet, and reaches to see how he is. He has his face turned against the cool grey slab, eyes shut, his hair sticking to his temple. The fair chest is rising and falling with his slowing breath. She doesn’t say his name, she’s not supposed to know it. But she takes her glove off and strokes the tapered contour of his face. For a moment, she sees it happen. How she could turn his mouth to hers, and stoop to kiss him. How their eyes would be closed, and her fingertips would be on his freckled skin.

She doesn’t. She takes her hand off his face and leaves the black room. Leaves everything that happens in there, locked.

He has never once used his safeword though she’s been vicious, though he’s cried and screamed and passed out.

His safeword is “Jyn Erso”.

**Author's Note:**

> So months and months and mooooonnnnnths ago, orysbaratheon sent me this message: "[...] I apologize for the randomness but I had an idea and just wanted to share it. Jynnic + dom!jyn prostate milking krennic. That is all. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯"
> 
> To which I yelped and went "Okay! But I gotta -- okay!"
> 
> Come the PWP day of Jynnic Week and I felt so guilty about not filling the prompt that I decided it had to be done, and that combining it with prompt 32 (the summary of this fic) I sent in to the [Jynnic Fandom Challenge](http://jynnicchallenge.tumblr.com/theprompts) would work quite nicely. Et voila.


End file.
